Butt Plugs, Pensieves, and Flobberworms: A Cautionary Tale
by demonkatgurl17
Summary: The semester only just started and Harry has needs. What's a greedy cockslut to do? [Set at beginning of HBP] (7th in Harry Potter and the Series of Degrading Events)


This takes place from the start of school through about the first couple weeks into the semester or so/span (trying to keep mostly true to HP the HPB book plotline). If you haven't read previous fics in this series, you'll prolly get confused as I won't spell out "like, ok this is ominous bc it references stuff that happened in this past interaction and this past interaction, etc."-SO if you want to read this as a standalone fic for the smut, you're welcome to, but don't say I didn't warn you.

**WARNINGS (which some of you will ignore all the same)**: Underage, power-imbalance, mpreg, incest, forced orgasms, gratuitous rough sex/rape and references to previous of the like. Don't like, don't read. Be an adult because children who don't choose wisely and cry to me about it afterwards will only be laughed at while I sit in the dark and eat popcorn.

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8/23/19 edit: I am adding dates to my fics for flow, no major changes

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September 2, 1996

"You guys go on," Harry muttered to Ron and Hermione, deliberately taking his time to repack his things. "I'll catch up."

Hermione frowned, clearly upset with his intent to stay behind to talk to Snape, but Ron pulled her away before she could say anything, the pair disappearing into the stream of students making their way out of the DADA classroom.

They seemed to find fault with a lot of his decisions lately. Like when he followed Malfoy into Knockturn Alley (when they'd _finally _gone for their school supplies) or when he went skulking in the Slytherin car. And now this - staying behind when Snape had already slapped him with a detention.

A detention he didn't deserve…

Harry scowled darkly at the thought, roughly shoving his things into his satchel.

Fucking git. Harry had merely defended himself when Snape singled him out to practice nonverbal spells. So what if his spell had been spoken aloud? The detention, he was sure, had been punishment for knocking Snape down in front of the whole class rather than the obvious failure to wordlessly cast his spells.

It wasn't a great start to his sixth year.

But Harry refused to keep this up between him and Snape, this back and forth animosity fed by past rivalries and old hatred and misunderstandings. It was poisonous and infuriating and had led (in part) to Sirius leaving the safety of Grimmauld Place and-

Harry shook his head.

No, this had to stop.

"And why are _you_ still here?" Snape growled as soon as the last student had slipped out of door.

Harry glared back and spelled the door closed (he cast verbally, not out of spite but because Snape's lesson on silent spell casting had been as helpful as his occlumency lessons).

"I wanted to talk to you. About how things are, er...between us."

"Between us?'" Snape parroted back with a nasty sneer. "I'm afraid there is nothing to discuss. I refuse to waste my time on an ego-bloated dunderhead who already receives praise for every insipid idea his hormone-addled brain spews out. How _disappointing_, not being the center of attention wherever you go... "

With a scathing look to match his words, Snape turned away, clearing up the chalkboard notes with a wave of his wand, ignoring Harry as he went about setting the room up for the next class.

Harry clenched his fist around his wand. His temper caused red sparks to shoot from the tip, so he hastily tucked it away. It wouldn't do to accidentally curse Snape when he was_ trying_ to make things better. "That's not it. That's _never_ been it, that's what I'm trying to tell you! I'm not what you think I am and maybe if we could just_ talk_-_"_

Snape scoffed and strode across the room without so much as a glance in Harry's direction, his long legs taking him to the door almost before Harry could stammer out a protest.

Why did the man have to make everything so_ hard? _

"Professor, please!"

A handbreadth from the door, Snape stopped, turning back to look at Harry, his black eyes narrow with hate. "And why should I give you my time? _Hmm?_ Why should I have _anything_ to do with you outside of what I am _forced_ to bear inside this classroom?"

Harry floundered. What could he say other than-

"I'm _sorry."_

Snape was…unconvinced.

"You're _sorry._" He wielded Harry's words like a lash, barbed with sarcasm so sharp it hurt to listen to. "You're…_sorry_. Sorry fixes _nothing_, Potter. It _changes_ nothing. _Sorry_ doesn't change that you are an arrogant little toe-rag who can't see past himself to the bigger picture. _Sorry_ doesn't take back every _stupid_ thing you do to put not only _your own_ life in jeopardy, but those around you. You think by saying _sorry _enough times, you'll bring back that mutt of yours?" Snape sneered at him.

"What do I have to do convince you to believe me?" Harry cried out. Everything Snape said was true and it hurt. If Harry had a time-turner, he would use it, but he couldn't, they all were gone now, smashed on that night when everything went wrong.

"That, Mr. Potter, is a price even _you_ can't afford."

A price.

Maybe Snape _could_ be swayed. But what could Harry-

Inspiration struck.

Slowly, so as not to cause alarm, Harry approached Snape.

"What are you doing?" Snape's eyes narrowed, his body tense as Harry came closer and closer, stopping well within his personal space.

Harry took a shaky breath to gather his nerves - and knelt right at Snape's feet, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched understanding dawn on the man's face.

"You can't be serious."

Harry kept eye contact, willing Snape to believe him, to take the penance Harry was offering, to-

There was a familiar push in his mind. Harry didn't even try to resist it.

The thoughts at the forefront of his mind were not ones he'd ever wanted Snape to see, but they were all he could give to show that his offer was an honest one: Dudley and his gang surrounding him, fucking him, Vernon taking over then throwing Harry back to them as a plaything, the visitors Vernon had brought over, first one at a time but then in rotation, with _variety_-

The legilimency cut off abruptly.

Harry collapsed forward onto his hands, instinctively bracing himself on all fours as a wave of sickness from the intrusion hit him hard. He didn't notice that his head rested against Snape's leg, the man's dark robes surrounding him, screening out most of the light in the room, leaving nothing but darkness and silence for one blessed moment.

Merlin, _what had he done?_

Suddenly a handful of his hair was yanked, his head tilted back back back to look up at Snape, who leaned down to whisper in his ear.

"You think I can't interpret your filthy little thoughts?" Snape's voice was low and dark. It sent shivers down Harry's spine, made blood pool in his groin and _throb_. "You think I can't see your manipulation for what it is, little _Gryffindor?_ You don't have a shred of guile in you, Potter. I can read your memories just as I can read _you_. You're used to getting _what_ you want and _who_ you want. You're nothing but a spoiled _whore_," he snarled.

Harry whimpered.

"You think you can get on your knees for me, bat those pretty green eyes and I'll just _give you what you want," _Snape dragged Harry's face forward to rub against his crotch, forcing Harry to nuzzle him. When Harry tried to mouth at him, Snape dragged his head back, ignoring the whine he made. "Slut," Snape crooned, mockingly tender even as he gave Harry's cheek a light stinging slap. "You can't control yourself, can you? And I'm to take you seriously?"

Casting Harry away from him, Snape turned and flung open the door, robes billowing around him as he stormed out of the room, leaving Harry on his knees, achingly hard with arousal and humiliation.

Slowly, Harry got to his feet, and when he did there was a smile on his face.

It had been unmistakable, that telltale stiffness against his cheek.

Snape had been _hard_ when he'd rubbed against Harry's face. And if Snape could get hard for Harry, then maybe…just _maybe…_

It was agony, but Harry forced himself to wait until he was safe in his four-poster that night before he let himself wank. It didn't take long to bring himself off to the memory of Snape's musky smell, the pull of his own hair, coming with Snape's name on his lips.

Harry drifted off to sleep, looking forward to changing the professor's mind.

September 7, 1996

Harry all but collapsed into one of the chairs in front of Dumbledore's desk, feeling rather queasy and, _this_ time, it wasn't from the sight of Dumbledore's grisly, withered hand (the headmaster had kept it glamoured to keep the condition secret and, honored as Harry was to be included amongst those who knew, he_ completely_ supported the illusion of health Dumbledore masked it with because, _truly_, it was a hideous sight).

Harry hated pensieves, but he much preferred learning about his nemesis over whatever torturous detention he could be enduring with Snape.

Though a part of Harry had strangely been looking forward to being tortured…

Harry's stomach churned unhappily.

Damn pensieve.

"Illuminating, I trust?" Dumbledore sat once again behind his desk, watching Harry keenly.

Harry nodded. It certainly had been. Seeing firsthand the family Voldemort was descended from was fascinating, even if he had no idea yet where any of this was going. He already knew that Tom Riddle had a streak of crazy in him. It wasn't exactly a leap that his instability could be traced back through his family line.

But the woman, Merope….

For her, Harry felt nothing but pity. He understood what it felt like to be trapped with an abusive family, forced to slave for them and hide away anything that brought you happiness, especially if what brought that happiness was_ despised_. The poor woman hadn't deserved her lot. More than once in the pensieve, Harry had wanted to reach out to her, but he couldn't.

Harry was _decades_ too late to give her useless platitudes.

"Well, as it is getting late, I should let you return to your dormitory. But before you leave, I wonder if you would humor an old man?"

Harry frowned but nodded, curious what more the headmaster could want.

Dumbledore swept his wand through the air in an elaborate flourish, the spell so effortlessly nonverbal that Harry felt a pang of envy (he had yet to get one nonverbal spell to work and it was frustrating).

At first, nothing happened.

And then-

A soft white glow began to emanate from his midriff.

Harry started down at the light seemingly coming from his belly. _What_ in the world-

"Oh dear…"

Harry looked up, alarm jolting though him at the sadness on the old man's face.

"S-sir?"

Dumbledore shook his head, clearly upset by the results of his spell. "I'm so sorry, my boy."

The portrait of the Fat Lady swung shut behind Harry and he dazedly glanced around the sparsely-populated common room.

"Harry!"

Hermione slipped out of a cushy armchair, books tumbling off of her lap into the space she'd vacated. "There you are! How did your meeting with Professor Dumbledore go?" Ron was nowhere to be seen, likely in bed already, just as Harry longed to be, tired as he was. So very tired…

"Huh? Oh… yeah, it went fine…" Harry trailed off, frowning. It was weird. One moment he was talking to the headmaster about the Gaunt memory and then the next thing he knew, he was standing in front of the Fat Lady.

Hermione dragged him by the arm back to an empty chair and shoved him into it. "You've_ got_ to tell me what happened!" She bounced eagerly on the edge of her chair, her nest of homework crinkling around her.

Harry, drawn in by his friend's curiosity, soon forgot the strange time lapse as he recounted what he'd seen in Dumbledore's pensieve.

If his belly ached occasionally, well, it_ had _been some time since dinner.

September 14, 1996

"Harry can we talk for a moment?"

Harry looked up from the Quidditch trunk he'd just wrestled shut and found Ginny standing nearby, arms crossed over her chest, a strained expression on her face. Everyone else had cleared off the pitch after the pre-season tryouts, including a jubilant Ron, spirits high from making the team, eager to find Hermione to share the good news.

"Um, sure?"

She turned and made for the Gryffindor changing rooms. Puzzled, Harry followed, working hard to keep up with her fast pace.

Must be pressing, he supposed, shuffling after her into the changing room.

When Ginny wheeled around to face him, her face was drawn in a deep scowl.

"You just couldn't keep your hands to yourself could you? You had to have my Dad AND my brothers, _too?"_

It was a curious feeling, the world dropping out from under your feet, Harry thought, especially when he was still very much on the ground. He didn't know why he was surprised. In a house with so many people in it, every stolen minute with his lovers had been charged with danger, the constant worry that sometime would catch them.

And apparently - _somehow _\- Ginny had caught them.

"Ginny, You don't understand, I-"

"They're my _family_, Harry, how could you _use_ them like that?"

"But I wasn't!" Harry protested, his voice rising right alongside his fear. "It wasn't like that! I love them too, Ginny, they were just trying to help me-"

"Help you _how?_" She glared at him, hands on her hips. In that moment, she was the spitting image of her mother and it only made the guilt within Harry churn even more violently. "With _what? _With getting stuffed with cock like a greedy _whore?_

"YES!"

They stared at each other in shock, the walls ringing with the force of Harry's admission.

"You're- You're a whore?" Ginny didn't look too convinced, though thankfully some of the anger was bleeding out of her, replaced by confusion.

"Um, yeah. I am." Saying it in front of Ginny didn't feel the same as it had with the twins or with Luna. It felt _ludicrous_. It felt like an excuse. _'Sorry I fucked half your family, Gin, I'm just a total slut for cock.'_ Harry's stomach knotted under her hawk-like stare.

"Well this complicates things a bit."

"Er, how so…?"

"Because I'm one too."

What?

"Oh….okaaaaay?" Harry blinked, feeling very wrong-footed. "So, what does that-? I mean, _how _does-"

"I don't like to share cock. With anyone."

"Um-?"

"Let make myself clear."

She walked towards him. Harry retreated, step for step, until his back met the wall, preventing him from escaping Ginny and the anger flaring back into her eyes. She didn't touch him or lift her wand, but Harry felt pinned in place all the same.

"Weasley cock is off-limits_. All_ of it. As a matter of fact - so are the ones in the tower. Every Gryffindor cock is mine, too."

_Now wait a minute!_ A very different kind of panic set in. "What?! You can't just claim them _all_-"

"Yes I can, I just did." She smirked. "And you _will_ leave all of them to me, otherwise Ron will find out you spent a week getting spit-roasted by the twins or nailed by dad. And if_ that_ isn't enough of an incentive - I'll tell_ Mum_."

Harry paled.

Ginny's smirk widened triumphantly, knowing she had him. "Do we have an agreement?"

Seized by fear, Harry could only nod and watch her walk away out of the changing rooms, a definite swagger in her step.

Numbly, he realized that, in the back of his mind, he had been counting on his roommates to satisfy his needs this year. After all, what was a harmless fuck between friends? But with Ginny's threat looming over him, Harry was left with a problem. Either he would have to remain celibate the whole year or he would have to look elsewhere for his pleasure - and that could be _dangerous_. One ill-chosen fuck and word could find its way to the press…and then _everyone_ would know.

_Everyone would know_.

What the hell was he going to do now?

Harry flicked another foul smelling chunk of flobberworm into the bowl next to him, suppressing a shudder at the wet _smack _it made as it stuck to more bits of rotting flesh.

As soon as Harry had walked into the DADA classroom, Snape directed him to a little desk right across from Snape's, where three bowls sat atop. "Sit down and sort those flobberworms," Snape had told him, not even bothering to look up from the pile of scrolls he was grading. "The usable in one bowl, the _un_usable in the other."

And with that he'd gone back to grading.

That had been a very boring and thoroughly disgusting half an hour ago and all attempts to catch Snape's eye had failed and every noise from Harry's lips had been met with a sharp order to for "Silence!" - which was incredibly frustrating because Harry's every attempt to finish their conversation had been thwarted for nearly two weeks now, Snape dodging and outright threatening Harry at every turn.

All Harry wanted to do was talk.

Well, not _all…_

Harry was going out of his mind, he was sure. Ever since that day when Dudley and his gang had jumped him, hardly a day this summer had gone by without_ someone_ fucking him. The trend had followed at the Burrow and now he was back at school, surrounded by people who didn't understand his needs and hampered by Ginny's threat, growing more tired of his hand and plug spell by the day.

He_ needed_ to be fucked.

He kept zoning out at odd moments, swept up in fantasizing about crawling under a table and unzipping a fly. Or bending over a table and begging someone to have mercy on him. He licked at quill tips more often, found his eyes wandering over the forms of classmates and professors alike despite the voluminous robes everyone wore, rubbed at himself surreptitiously beneath his own robes in class. As his urges grew more demanding, Harry had taken to fingering himself in the bathroom behind locked doors and silencing charms. Recently, he even took to spelling himself open, his hole stretched wide around a plug as big as he dared make, the tease making him squirm in class; Hermione had asked him on more than one occasion if he was alright and if he needed to go to the hospital wing, as flushed as Harry became one time, the tease having been so _good_ he'd nearly finished right there in class.

Hard and leaking within his robes, Harry was starting to regret inserting the plug before his detention, as each sharp inhale forced the smell of rot deeper into his nose (not that the stench was killing his erection).

"Mr. Potter, if you would stop_ wriggling _about in your seat as though under a tickling charm or else I'll be forced to apply a permanent sticking charm to your rear."

_I know what I'd like to have you apply to my rear,_ Harry considered snarking back before an idea to shape in his mind.

"I can't, Professor. I have a problem."

"Then_ solve_ it," Snape dismissed, giving someone's work a load of red flourishes that made Harry wince with sympathy, wondering faintly who was the recipient of such a scathing review.

"I can't, I've tried." Not _un_true. "I think I need your help."

Snape sniffed, rolling up the poor scroll and selected a new one to punish.

"Please, Professor? It's… _embarrassing_. I don't think I _could_ go to anyone else. Not with this."

"I'm sure Madame Pomfrey is more than capable of treating whatever _infection_ you may have picked up from your harem of lovers," Snape sneered.

Harry huffed. That wasn't fair at all. "I can't go to the hospital wing, not for_ this_\- "

"Then talk to the Headmaster. If he'll take the time to rearrange a simple detention, I'm sure he'll listen to whatever ails you."

This wasn't working, Harry realized. Snape was stubborn and vengeful, he wouldn't respond to ploys of weakness, not from_ Harry_ at least.

A more daring approach then, he decided.

Assuming Snape didn't assign him detention for a month, it might be worth it.

A wave of Harry's wand took care of the flobberworm mess all over him - _that_ got Snape's attention.

"The hour is not concluded, Mr. Potter, and I highly doubt you have finished your sorting yet."

Harry ignored the warning in favor of shucking his robe and making his way around the desk towards Snape, who_ finally_ looked up at him with suspicious eyes.

"Back to your _seat_, Mr. Potter."

"Professor, please! No one else can fix this!" Harry pleaded.

_Come on, Gryffindor courage_. Harry took a shaky breath before shoving his trousers and pants down in one move (his hand-me-downs thankfully loose enough to make it quick and easy), bending at the waist over the short end of Snape's desk, arms folded between his chest over a number of scrolls.

For a long moment, nothing happened. Snape gazed at him, his face a strange twist of anger and confusion. Harry watched him right back, trying not to tremble too badly under that black stare.

Slowly, as though under a spell, Snape rose, stepping smoothly around until he was behind Harry, out of sight and quiet enough to make Harry shake with genuine fear.

Then-

A soft touch at his lower back, his shirt pushed up higher to let the older man have an unobstructed view of his ass and the toy nestled just within.

"And just what is it that you think I can…_help_ you with, Mr. Potter?" Snape's voice, normally low and dark, now deepened to a sultry purr from somewhere behind Harry, but closer.

Harry shivered - not from cold, Snape was standing so close that Harry could feel the heat from his body, the occasional brush of his robes. No, he wasn't cold at all, what made him shiver was the hope of finally being touched by someone else, of _finally_ feeling something larger, more perfect than some conjured plug sliding inside him. His legs shifted apart but the clothes halfway down his legs hampered him, kept him from spreading wide, from inviting his professor to take and take and _take_.

Cool fingers brushed against the skin stretched tight around the plug, feeling the heat there, tested the scant give around the toy. "Perhaps_ this_ is where you need assistance?" He lightly drummed on the loop.

Harry twitched at the burst of sensation, groaned when he felt the toy being slowly - so _slowly_ \- pulled out, until it slipped out with a wet sound that made him blush.

"Hmm….not very big, is it? Hardly enough to satisfy a greedy hole like this."

Harry whimpered and shook his head.

It wasn't, not by a long shot, just long enough to tease but too short to really give him that over-full feeling that drove him mad with want - and so it drove Harry mad with want anyway for all that it lacked.

A wave of magic and the door was locked (and likely better safeguarded against intruders then Harry was capable of).

Harry smiled. If Snape was taking such precautions, then he planned to do something even _he _didn't want to get caught at.

_Finally_…..

Harry relaxed against the desk, tipped his hips up hopefully. Already he felt empty (the main reason he started to wear the plug in the first place) and, with Snape so close, seemingly capable of the sort of violence that Harry couldn't get enough of, Harry was all but ready to start begging.

"Well then…_ this_ might do the trick," Snape laughed under his breath and, really, that should have been the first indication that the man was up to something, only Harry quit caring when something hard began to press into him, only-

Disappointment hit him. It was only the plug again.

Harry whined. He pushed back against Snape's hand, begging for more with the tilt of his hips, but Snape only withdrew with a low chuckle. "Now now, so eager... You might just regret that."

A tingle of magic swept over Harry, concentrating on his ass, on the plug and-

Harry gasped. It had moved, he was certain. He bucked back and once again he felt it move. It happened again. And again. Harry undulated, losing himself in the feel of the plug rocking within him. It wasn't long before Harry realized something.

The size… it was _changing._ He swore that with every rock, the plug grew, delving deeper, stretching him wider.

He cast a wild look over his shoulder. Snape's eyes glittered with mischief as he watched Harry work himself into a frenzy.

Because that's what Snape had done.

He'd enchanted the plug, and Harry couldn't stop moving, even though he had a feeling the growth was linked to him somehow, if anything Harry's rocking grew even more frantic. This was the best thing next to a real cock he'd felt in two weeks and, every time he pushed back into the thrust of the plug, Harry groaned and squirmed on the desk.

Scrolls crinkled beneath him, a few rolled off the desk. If Snape cared, he didn't say anything. Not that he_ was_ saying anything, merely watching as Harry stretched wider on his own toy. If the sight was actually doing anything for the git, Harry couldn't tell; the man's face was intense (but that's how he always looked), his robes hiding any evidence of arousal that muggle clothing would otherwise show off.

"P-please!" Harry panted. He wasn't sure what he was asking for.

The plug was big now, very big, and it was starting to hurt, grinding away at the lube applied by Harry 's initial spell.

"_Please, _Professor…_ please…" _Harry's pleading grew weaker, the air driven out of him by the ramming of the plug-turned-giant dildo, and still Snape watched.

"Ah…_aaahhhhh….._oh g- …Profes-….aaaAHhhhh!"

Merlin it felt so big, as wide as if he was being reamed open by two cocks or maybe an entire _arm_.

Harry gave up moving back against it, it didn't matter, the immense toy just kept coming, it rammed and twisted and _grew_, taking Harry's breath and strength to move. His cock swung heavily between his trembling legs, hard and leaking copiously, leaving streaks of precome on the desk and dribbling down to the floor and Harry's clothes.

And _still_ Snape watched.

Harry lay all but limp on the desk, surrendering. His body shook from the force of being magically fucked, the pace suddenly quickening, becoming rabbit fast, and Harry couldn't_ breathe_, couldn't cry out any more and-

His body seized, orgasm rippling through him without warning or anyone's touch. His eyes rolled up, he couldn't see, everything was blindingly white and so _good good good, _like a dam of pleasure releasing within him that sent him higher and higher-

Severus found himself in an unfamiliar situation.

Draped over his desk, was a student, wanton and willing.

And unconscious.

When Potter suddenly went limp and silent, panic had flared white-hot through his veins, afraid that something had gone very wrong. If Potter were to die under his supervision...

But thankfully, the brat still lived to irritate him another day.

Severus eyed the sweaty, half-naked teen, panting slightly even while passed out, body jolting with every inward pass of the magically-enhanced dildo that was still thrusting away.

A wand flick banished the toy. It wasn't a compassionate move on Severus's part. Any damage wrought would need repairing. Why waste precious stores of healing potions and unguents on the trollop?

He spread the teen's cheeks to admire his work. It was beautiful, Potter's hole a red, used wreck, trying to close and somewhat failing after being wrapped around the monstrously-expanded plug. Severus was sorely tempted to mount Potter as is, but a thought occurred to him and his smirk widened to a full-blown grin.

No…

He wanted to admire _another_ work of his.

Severus levitated Potter enough to flip him over, settling him atop the desk face up. The teen looked absurd - the over-large shirt was rucked up to the armpits to expose Potter's erect cock, coltish legs dangled with his trousers bunched at the ankle.

And there, exposed for all to see-

Stretch marks.

****** Flashback********

Severus dragged Potter back roughly, meeting the teen halfway with a rough snap of his hips, driving his cock in to the hilt in rabbit-quick thrusts, balls slapping so hard it hurt, but the pain only spurred Severus on, intent on punishing Potter with his cock if not in words.

If only the insolent brat _knew_ who was balls-deep inside him...

Said brat was on all fours in front of him, panting and whining, begging with actual words whenever he managed to find the breath for it. The blindfold was charmed to stay in place, a clever aid the wolf had supplied to allow Severus to enjoy the wanton slut personally without the usual lip.

Experiencing the wolf's memories via pensieve was delightful, but as Remus's potion demands grew more…interesting… Severus decided his payment should be more satisfying than palming himself to someone else's experience.

He had to admit, having the bane of his existence under him, clenching around his cock, was far more satisfying than he'd imagined. Pity the brat was already knocked up with the half-breed's whelp, the idea of forcing Potter to bear the seed of his most hated professor nearly made Severus's mouth water.

"Please!"

Severus grabbed a fistful of Potter's black mop, dragging his head up and back. The teen's heavy belly exaggerated the dip of Potter's spine and shook with the onslaught of Severus's cock, which plunged even deeper with the new angle. "'Please', what?" Severus crooned in Potter's ear, careful to keep his voice a low whisper to shield his identity. "Please stop? Please fuck your slutty little hole for as long I like? Or please let you cum?" He hadn't once touched Potter's cock, but the mirror set alongside them allowed Severus to see just how much the brat loved being speared by a stranger's cock, Potter's own hardness slapping against the underside of his pregnant belly every time Severus fucked him open.

A throaty whine was apparently all Potter could manage before jerking violently in Severus's grip, his tight ass squeezing around Severus's cock, coming on it.

Furious, Severus released Potter's head with a shove so hard it knocked the teen down onto his elbows, belly nearly touching the floor while his hips were tilted up. "Did I say you could cum?" Severus aimed for the brat's prostate before unleashing hell, making sure every thrust was near-violent, every thrust dragging along that spot.

Potter did not disappoint. Despite having just cum, he bucked back and begged for Severus to fuck him, all slurred words and happy sounds. The mirror gave Severus an excellent view when, once again, Potter came around his cock, nearly setting off Severus himself.

But he couldn't have that, no…

Seeing a challenge, Severus held back his own need to cum.

"Apparently, you need to be reminded of your place, you filthy cunt."

It took another forced orgasm before the teen could control himself enough to wait for Severus's approval and, by then, Potter couldn't hold himself up anymore.

*****(End flashback)*****

Over the summer, Severus had indulged in Potter's body nearly every day for a week, their fucking sometimes under the wolf's or the uncle's eye, but mostly alone, where he could violate the teen in peace and quiet.

At least until a sudden message via Patronus ended Severus's most well-spent summer to date.

And now Potter had the audacity to offer up his holes willingly to Severus, as though Potter knew the older man was barely keeping his newfound addiction at bay and wanted to torture him.

Perhaps...

Perhaps Severus could indulge...just _once _more...

It was too easy, really. A few drops of a mild sleeping potion into Potter's half-open mouth and Severus was guaranteed unrestricted access, a half-naked body laid out for him to do as he pleased.

His lips curled in dark humor.

_Oh dear Lily, if only you could see your child now._

If the boy had been gifted with more of his mother's looks, Severus wondered whether he would have been easier or harder to violate, if more telltale traces of Lily would have given him pause or made him bury his cock that much harder.

A moot point, Severus decided, as he charmed the boy's legs to lift, knees tucked close to chest, half-blocking his view of the boy's face. Potter was nothing more than a tight hole. A tight hole with an expiration date stamped on him by the Dark Lord, Albus Dumbledore, and fate itself. Severus was merely taking his due, and if he took it from Potter or anyone else, it was no one's business but his own.

Tight, _tight _heat.

Severus groaned as he sheathed himself to the hilt. Oh...it had been too long...

He didn't waste time, fucking in and out of the slick hole, hardly pulling out before barreling back in deepdeep_deep, _as though trying to reach the boy's throat. His fingers dug hard into skinny hips, each thrust making Potter's knobby knees to bash together. Potter's legs were still mostly free of hair- yet another sign that the boy was still that: a boy, a stupid brat edging into puberty, his body just beginning to itch for sex.

Severus remembered when his own body began to yearn for another's touch, remembered the sting of rejection time and again when his body was found lacking.

Too gangly, too ugly.

Severus dug bruises into the boy's flesh. _Let them judge now_. He slid a hand down to press against Potter's belly, against the stretch marks there. _I've marked and sullied the most powerful pawn in a war between two master manipulators and had the bitch _begging_ for more. _Let _them _ALL _judge now..._

The boy felt so good wrapped around his cock. Twice Severus had to pull out entirely and breathe, barely holding back from coming prematurely. He wanted to savor this, the Whore Savior taking the cock Lily had turned away in favor of James Potter's (and his friend's, if the rumors were true).

Severus pulled out again, hand tight around the root of his cock to keep from shooting. He rounded the desk, shoving his aching prick down the boy's throat, holding him there, nose pressed into Severus's pubes.

"Albus ought to see you like this," he panted, "his little hero, nothing more than a born and bred prostitute, good for nothing more than a cock sheath and causing mass chaos. If he had any sense, he'd trade you to the Dark Lord for an end to this useless war. Or bait his followers over with the sweet promise of spearing your lovely arse on a regular basis. Keep you full and bred and out of the way."

The boy's throat rippled around him, his body struggling for air through the cloud of the sleeping potion.

With a sigh, Severus pulled out, patiently waiting one, two, three breaths before driving back in mercilessly, skullfucking the boy until his cock was sloppy with spit and he was in the verge of coming. Sliding out of that sinful mouth, Severus rounded the desk and plunged back into the boy's velvet heat, hurtling toward that blissful precipice, hips pummeling Potter's tight ass, and then he was slamming deep and falling falling falling, pouring himself into Potter, gasping with every surge of cum.

Magic, heady and powerful, surged around Severus, through him, into the Potter, who managed a weak groan despite the sleeping potion. Realization swept through Severus and his cock gave one last weak spurt into the boy's body - Potter's _impregnated_ body.

Severus pulled his cock free, grinning wildly.

_Oh Albus, what will you do with a knocked up Chosen One? _

When Harry came to, he was flipped over on the desk, facing the ceiling.

The events of before came to him, slowly, as though through a fog, his thoughts muddled.

_Merlin, _that had been_… intense. _It had been weeks since his limits had been tested so extremely. Harry swallowed thickly, wincing a little at the soreness of his throat. Had he really screamed that much? Sore and sweaty though he was, Harry relished the heavy looseness of his body that usually followed a damn good fuck, his thoughts floating and free as he just lay on the desk…feeling…feeling…

Soft petting across his belly, slickly tracing over what Harry belatedly realized were the scars he still had questions about, questions Dumbledore had neatly side-stepped during their meeting.

Harry blinked down himself, taking in the bizarre sight of his nasty, hated professor caress him, eyes greedily drinking in the arcs of pale scars trailing across Harry's midriff, rubbing cum into them.

It was…strangely intimate in a way that getting fucked by a toy on his teacher's desk hadn't been, and he wasn't sure he could handle it.

He shifted uncomfortably on the desk, the movement drawing Snape's attention.

Snape stood, a smirk playing about his lips, as though he knew something that Harry didn't.

Maybe he did.

"Do- do you know what these are?" Harry laid a hand on his belly, his fingers sliding through cum - a _lot_ of cum. "I can't remember getting them and Dumbledore won't tell me either."

That seemed to startle the professor. "You…don't remember?" He frowned at Harry's negative head shake. "And the Headmaster…you think_ he_ knows?"

Harry nodded. If Dumbledore didn't know, he have told Harry so, not evaded Harry's questions like a child speaking out of turn, reminding Harry of the past year when the Headmaster thought the truth was too dangerous to know. But they were supposed to be past all that…

"Hmm…" Snape crossed his arms over his chest, absently stroking a thumb across his lips, lost in thought for a moment before he came back to himself, scowling as though Harry's questioning irritated him (which was likely). "If the Headmaster has not seen fit to answer your questions, then it isn't _my_ place to countermand his wishes. If you _needed_ to know, you would _know_. Now," he ran his eyes down Harry's body, still exposed and limp across his desk, belly covered in cum, "I believe your hour is up, Mr. Potter. Time to return to your dormitory." A flick of his wand and Harry was clean.

"Dress yourself and leave," Snape said dismissively. He summoned the scrolls - the fallen, the graded, and even the ones beneath Harry, which wiggled their way free of his body to hover next to Snape - then neatly turned on his heel, and left the room, not caring the least about leaving an exhausted, half-naked student draped across his desk.

Even though Harry was sore and left with more questions than answers, he smiled, mildly surprised that his best detention to date had been with Snape.


End file.
